Silent
by Hawk Clowd
Summary: The nights they spent together were few, far between, and always silent. RoyEd


The nights they spent together were few and far between, punctuated by careful nods and broken by tirades, by quarrels, by missions and paperwork and colleagues and meetings and family and friends. It was a silent affair; they never spoke of it, even amongst themselves, before or after or even during -- they didn't need to. Roy would meet Edward's eyes and the only messages they exchanged (come with me tonight, do it faster, do it harder, see you in the morning) consisted of no words at all. Oddly enough, those were some of the few times either of them were quiet.

Their first night had been in Roy's office back in the Eastern Headquarters, late in the evening once most everyone had gone home. Their conversation had slacked off and the threatening awkwardness of the quiet was thwarted by a cough, a glance, and a kiss. Neither knew, later on, who instigated it and, of course, they never discussed it, but one thing led to another and it climaxed quickly with Edward up against the desk and with his legs up around Roy's shoulders, with panting, with moaning, with a muscle spasm and a lot of ruined paperwork Roy had to redo the next day. They didn't ask why it happened -- truly, they didn't _know_ why -- and they stayed silent.

Weeks passed before they met like that again, but it went much the same away -- but on the couch this time, so Roy would be saved the paperwork and Edward wouldn't have to go through the ordeal of washing ink off his skin. Frantic kisses. Muted moans. Hard thrusts. No words.

It happened time and time again -- and not always in the office but always quick and hard and quiet -- for weeks. For months. Over and over and over again. They never thought about what they were doing -- the consequences of their fraternization escaped them or, at least, never occurred to them -- and they surely never planned to do any of it. Things happened. Neither ever gave their trysts a second thought until they had started another one up again, and they felt that was just fine. Why shouldn't it be?

And then, suddenly, things changed. Edward disappeared and his younger brother's life rewound back to how it had been years ago, before Roy had even entered the picture. Roy was left behind to be forgotten.

Well, not forgotten. Roy's life was filled with the same chaos as before, spiced with a little extra glory and a pinch more responsibility and prestige. Things went on more or less as usual. Roy slacked a bit at work, spent his free time with beautiful women, and ignored his own physical flaws -- his age, his newly scarred and covered eye, his graying hair. They only real difference, so far as Roy could see, was that when, forgetting, he lifted his eyes to pass on a silent message (tonight?), no one looked back at him and knowingly returned the look. They looked back, sometimes, but that was simply coincidence and they never seemed to know that Roy's glance contained a message meant for someone who had long disappeared. An empty coffin was put into the ground and a hymn was sung. Edward Elric was declared dead until -- if -- someone discovered otherwise. Roy made a point of visiting the grave every so often -- to remind himself that Edward was gone, but also so that he wouldn't forget the other had existed in the first place. The visits were few and far between, just as their own quick and quiet nights had been, and Roy felt that was appropriate.

A few years passed, as they tended to do. Alphonse Elric eventually came to Roy's office as an alchemist, like his brother, and it was like seeing the glimpse of a ghost -- a glimpse of Edward. Alphonse didn't much look like his brother, but he had certain habits -- a certain way of carrying himself -- that so resembled Edward that some people ended up doing double takes to make sure they were, in fact, speaking to or looking at Alphonse. It was eerie and strange and somehow it served only to put Roy ill at ease.

It became too difficult to find the time to visit Edward's grave (or perhaps he simply stopped trying to make the time; it was too painful and it only made Roy realize more and more that no one was there to return his secret looks), and Roy made do with treating Alphonse as well as he could, rationalizing that it was what Edward would have wanted. The pangs he felt whenever Alphonse did something to remind Roy of Edward, however, only increased, and there were times when, all alone in his office, Roy wasn't sure he could take it anymore.

There were ways to get around the pangs of guilt and loneliness, however, and Roy used them to the best of his abilities. He dated and spent his evenings with countless women, but he was quickly growing old (as loathe as he was to admit it) and women cringed away from his eye patch and what secretly lurked beneath. That retreat couldn't last. He considered actually getting married, getting over Edward and their silent moments together, but the women he considered all drove him mad after a few days and he dropped the idea quickly. He worked instead toward weaning himself off lust and sex and all those feelings, the thrill, the moments, the exultation. His will faded sometimes -- he was only human, after all -- and on those days, those nights, he locked the door without explanation and retreated behind his desk.

It was bad tonight. Very bad. Roy had spent all day hiding secret winces as Alphonse did one thing after another to remind the office of Edward, as Havoc suddenly laughed and broke into stories of the Edward he remembered, as everyone turned expectantly to Roy so he could add a story or a quip, as he'd only been able to think of how Edward had looked when he was flushed and splayed out against the desk, against the couch, the bed, the floor, the walls, as he had just smiled and refused to take part in the reminiscing, as everyone had laughed and oh God Alphonse laughed just like Edward, as the sound of Edward's almost silent moans and cries and winces had echoed in Roy's ears, as Alphonse had smiled so kindly and said goodbyes, as Havoc had shaken his head and said those damning words -- that it was a shame the Boss had been missing for so long, that he wasn't coming back, because Alphonse would never get the chance to know the same Edward they all remembered. Havoc's words fell like lead weights as everyone had nodded their heads to agree. Roy suffered alone in the constant commotion of the office.

So yes, it was bad tonight.

And it was late, too. Roy had tried to smother his needs with his work, but work didn't suit him and he had spent most of the day and early evening doodling and half-sketching out the alchemic circles he had never bothered to memorize, scribbling them in the margins of his paperwork. While he had doodled idly, the other people in the building had done their work, said their goodnights, and went home. Roy had seen the lights click off through his office window.

Tonight he wouldn't bother to lock the door; there was no one around to catch him anyway. Roy shut his eyes and quietly undid his pants, eased them down, bared himself to the air. He shivered. He remembered. In his mind it was their first time again, except better, without the uncharacteristic awkwardness and timidity he had found so irritating until Edward became comfortable and bold, without the glare they had exchanged as they each said, silently, that this was a one-time thing and that the other shouldn't get used to it because it wouldn't happen again.

Roy remembered and he shuddered as he touched himself. He kept the strokes and teasings light at first and then made them rough, in imitation of the quick and almost careless touches Edward had always made. He remembered golden hair as it fanned out behind Edward's head and half-shut golden eyes, tanned skin, the smell of sweat mingled with oil, the taste of metallic kisses, the feel of hidden muscles sliding effortlessly against his own, the clench of an automail fist in Roy's shirt (or bed sheets or hair or papers or whatever was available that wasn't a limb). He stroked swiftly and roughly, clenching the side of his desk with his free hand, and he came quickly and hard, suddenly. As he relaxed back into his chair, Edward's name breezed softly from between his lips.

The door opened and someone stepped inside. Roy froze and opened his eyes to look at the intruder. He started to protest, but the intruder -- the man -- didn't care. He stepped in quietly and confidently, approached him with smooth and unhindered steps. The steps stopped in front of Roy's desk and a hand reached over to take on of Roy's doodled papers. The man examined it briefly and then set it back down.

"You can't draw these things for shit."

Roy stared for a moment. The intruder smiled sadly as blond hair, loose for once, fell into his face. He started to say something but stopped. He started again and then shook his head. They looked at one another and passed a secret, silent message. They were quiet as they picked up where they had left off.

They didn't need to talk. There would be time for questions -- for speaking -- later on.

**-end-**


End file.
